


...eggs?

by scorpiusismypatronus



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: ??????, Anxiety Disorder, Baking, Boys In Love, Cookies, Crack, Eggs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by my life, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, crack/angst, crack/fluff, feel free 2 laugh at me, feel free to hmu if u want the story behind this one jhfjghjdx, fluff/angst, idk how to describe this one tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiusismypatronus/pseuds/scorpiusismypatronus
Summary: In which Jared has a panic attack over eggs





	...eggs?

**Author's Note:**

> smth v similar happened to me and now that the panic attack is over it’s kinda funny so here,, half crack half angst,,

Jared sighed, staring down at the cookie batter and cracking the first egg — perfect.

He went to crack the second when he heard Evan’s voice saying “hey babe” and flinched, spilling the egg white on his fingers and screeching.

“Jared?”

“I SPILLED THE EGG,” he shouted, rushing to the sink and shoving his hands under the water, desperate to get the feeling of the slimy, sticky egg white off his fingers.

“You… what the hell?” Evan asked eloquently.

Jared pumped the soap and scrubbed at his hands. “I'm making cookies.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

Slightly more insistently, he responded, “ _I'm making cookies_.”

“Okay,” Evan said. Jared could hear his smile.

He bit his lip and grabbed a paper towel, taking out the eggshells as delicately as he could and throwing them in the trash.

“Can I help?” Evan asked. Jared could hear the smile in his voice even with his back turned.

“Sure,” Jared said, turning around. “Can you mix the dry ingredients for me? I forgot to find the chocolate,” he explained.

Within five minutes the two of them had fallen into the rhythm of baking together. Whenever Jared was particularly stressed or bored or sad, he’d find himself covered in flour from baking. He’d been going through what his therapist would call “a rough patch” and what he would call “a shit time” recently and needed to take his mind off of it all.

Evan stood back when Jared declared he was going to put the sheet in — he knew Evan was terrified of things that could burn him, and honestly, he didn’t blame him. But it was easier for Jared and he didn't want to see his boyfriend scared, so he put things in the oven for the other boy all the time.

He slid them in and hopped up onto the countertop as Evan punched in the time and hit “start.”

He started thinking about the eggs again — in retrospect it was kind of funny how he’d jumped back from the egg like a chicken had fallen from it — could that happen?

He knew they probably checked the eggs and kept the roosters from the hens, but — maybe one could get in? And how were they supposed to know if a chicken egg had been fertilized? What if one day he was baking cookies and he cracked it and a baby chicken fell out? It was unlikely, but it could happen — if there was no way of making sure the egg wasn’t fertilized — it was very possible — what if someone was allergic to chicken and he used chicken-infested eggs to make them cookies? — How was he supposed to know if maybe the next egg he cracked open would have a chicken inside it? What if he jumped and a dead chicken fell out of the egg onto his hand? Or what if it did, but he didn’t notice, and he baked a batch off cookies only for it to come out with feathers and bones inside each one?

He realized he was hyperventilating and tugged his legs close to his body. He wanted to scream. He couldn’t eat eggs, not if there was a chance of a dead baby chicken inside of one —

“Babe, you okay?” Evan asked, glancing at him worriedly. 

“Ev —” it was all he could get out. His breaths had shortened and he felt his vision going blurry. He was shaking a little bit.

Evan hopped up onto the countertop and asked, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Jared nodded. He knew Evan was a lot more anxious about touch when he was having a panic attack — of course, that’s what this was, a panic attack, wasn’t it? 

Jared needed the sensation of someone else there to ground him, but as a general rule, Evan hated it, so his boyfriend always asked before hugging him, even if he knew what Jared’s answer would be.

Evan wrapped an arm around him and stroked his hair, fingers running through it softly. Jared sighed and rocked a little, trying to remind himself that he was _here_ and there were no chickens — _but there could be chickens_.

The thought shot him directly back into the panic attack as scenarios flashed in his mind. Cracking open an egg to see a bloody baby chicken. A dead chicken getting mashed into batter by the mixer set on high. Evan finding out he was allergic to chicken by eating cookies with dead chicken extract in them. A decomposing chicken falling onto his hand.

“Jared,” Evan whispered.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to breathe.

“It’s okay, baby,” Evan murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He signed. “It's stupid.”

“If it sent you into a panic attack, it’s not stupid,” Evan said.

He sighed again and ran a finger along the seam of his jeans. “…Eggs.”

“What about them?” Evan asked softly.

“Well. Chickens, more accurately. I-I-I was just t-thinking, what if — what if one of the eggs — had a chicken in it? And I went to crack the egg and one had fallen into my hand, or what if you were allergic to chickens and you didn’t know and you had a cookie with… chicken residue in it and you died? Or what if a chicken had died in it and there was a chick corpse in the egg? There’s no way to know before you open it—”

“Jared,” Evan said. He looked a little amused by it, which, okay, that was understandable. “I promise there aren't any chickens in these eggs. You know how I know?”

“No?”

“Because they separate the hens from the roosters at… _egg-making_?… facilities. Think of it like human eggs. They don’t magically grow fetuses until someone with a dick does the sex, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And since there are no roosters in the area, well, there’s no way for one to fertilize an egg.”

“But what if there is one? What if there’s a trans hen or something?”

“Honestly, Jared, I don’t think chickens are intelligent enough to conceptualize gender.”

“Okay, point,” Jared said, “but — what if a rooster snuck in?”

“A rooster won’t sneak in,” Evan said. “I promise there are no chickens. And by the way, I got allergy testing done just a couple years ago and I’m not allergic. So you can cross that off your list of worries.”

“But if one did get in — if there was a live chicken in my egg — if there was a _dead_ chicken in my egg — no, imagine I go to crack an egg and flinch and it breaks on my hand and a goddamn chicken corpse falls out?”

“Jared, that’s not going to happen,” Evan said. “But if it did, you could probably sue the company. And it's so unlikely that they’ll not be able to argue against giving you money and shutting down.”

He was calming down a little — still really distressed over the concept of a chicken falling out of a normal everyday egg — but he was breathing and thinking well enough to lean up and peck Evan on the lips.

“Now, no more eggs,” Evan said, tapping his nose. “Okay? You saw all the eggs as they went in. The cookies are safe.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Of course, babe,” Evan responded just as the timer went off.

“I'll get it,” Jared said, sliding off the countertop and grabbing the potholders. “Love you,” he added as he placed the cookies on the stovetop to cool and bumped the oven door shut.

“Love you too,” Evan said, flinging his arms around Jared once he’d stepped back from the oven. 

Jared leaned into his touch, grinning and pulling his fingers through Evan’s hair. “You're the best boyfriend ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @dont-the-tears-just-pour btw!


End file.
